Conditions
by Pirate-on-Fleet-Street
Summary: A short one-shot featuring Anamaria and James Norrington in which she tries to make him more "piratey". No romance. PAIRINGS CHALLENGE no.3


**In September of 2009 my friend Stutley Constable expressed an interest in writing a few oneshots with unusual pairings (ones that are not Sparrabeth or Willabeth). We decided that it would be fun to cooperate on such an undertaking. This story and eleven others are the products of that venture. We hope you will enjoy them.**

~James and Anamaria~

"Why do you wear such a thing?" Anamaria asked, snatching the wig off James' head. "Look at that powder. I could load three guns with it!"

"Nonsense, at least it's combed," the former Commodore said, swiping it back from her with an irritated look on his face. He straightened it out then fitted it back on his head, smoothing what coarse hairs might have been displaced with her uncareful hands.

"My hair _is_ combed!" Anamaria snapped at him, pulling the mass of black locks around her shoulder and shoving the shiny ends in his face.

He leaned back on the bench they were sitting on, pushing her hand away.

"Very well then," he grumbled. "You have unusually combed hair for a pirate. Even a she-pirate if such a term exists. Are you sure you are qualified to teach me the art of pirating?"

"My life isn't always running the deck and hoisting canvas. I do have some spare time to at least brush my hair," she said sternly. "And these! They are not even buttons, they do not go in the holes!" she exclaimed, picking at the round gold buttons on his jacket as if trying to remove them from their threads. "And you want my help! You are unsalvageable!"

"Unsalvageable? I look very well thank you," he defended himself, glaring at the angry woman beside him.

"See that's the thing! You cannot be a pirate by wearing a frilly neck scarf!"

"Actually it's a—"

"And my God, your hat must go," she announced and before he could close his fingers around it, she snatched the hat from his hands. Then she stood and walked to the rail swiftly before tossing it overboard.

"My hat! You are mad woman!" James shouted angrily, getting up and rushing to the rail to peer down at the object bobbing on the waves. "You have no idea how hard I worked to earn that."

Before he could say another word she took his wig from his head once more and tossed it too over the side of the Pearl.

"Stop!" he said, backing away from her with his hands raised to ward her off if she planned another attack.

"You want my help, I give it to you," she said, grimacing at him.

"Fine, you win. But don't take anything else!"

"That frock is simply despicable."

"It is a garment that shows great importance in the—"

"Take it off."

"Fine," he muttered and began to shrug it off. She decided he was taking too long and yanked the rest from his shoulders for him. Then she flung it out at the water and he watched bitterly as it floated like a parachute through the air to land on the waves a few rises and falls away from his hat. Any sailor who sailed past would think that someone had been lost at sea somewhere nearby. The navy would be looking for him. Maybe not in a very focused way, but if this was reported they would perhaps assume that he had been lost to the sea. They would come to the conclusion that he had failed his mission. Truthfully, he _had _failed.

"That scarf," Ana said, breaking James out of his thoughts. Her hand was half stretched out to take the garment and her eyes were glaring pointedly at it.

"It is not a scarf, it is called a—"

"Toss it," she cut him off sharply.

He loosened the cravat then pulled it from his neck entirely. Muttering incoherently to himself, he threw it overboard to join the rest of his clothing, along with the rest of his rank, the remaining pieces of his title and the final string tying him to position and honour.

"That shirt will not do either," she said, rubbing the white cotton fabric between her fingers.

"Bloody hell woman! I'm not going take my breeches off for you!" James finally snapped at her.

"I didn't ask you for them," she said and folded her arms defensively in front of her. "I didn't want you to get rid of those."

"Yes, you did," he said accusingly. Did nothing affect her?

"I didn't. Now go get new ones!" She pointed to the hold and when he only glanced at it she raised her eyebrows and flicked her finger at it again.

"Aye aye sir," he said sarcastically and turned for the hold with a mock salute in her direction.

**-:-**

"They fit fine," she insisted.

"They're too short."

"They're all going to be short. Would you rather get the hems all wet if there's a leak or somethin'? No, so just wear them."

"But they're so baggy," he complained, letting out some frustration with a huff.

"Well you can't move around as well in whatever it was you were wearing before."

"I simply won't have these. I am going to keep my other pair and there is nothing you can say to stop me. That is one thing you will not be removing from my possession."

"Very well then," she nodded and he stood there for several moments, not sure what to do now that he had won.

"Fine," he finally said and with one last triumphant look at her he turned back to the stairs.

"Fine," she said and he missed the smirk that she held lightly on her lips as he clambered down the stairs to find his pants.

She went to the rail and looked over the water at a white wig bobbing further and further away, at the rise and fall of the waves that had stolen a coat and swallowed a shirt, and she grinned at the pair of fine white breeches now floating off with the ripples of the passing Pearl.

She had a feeling that lesson one would be the last.

In a matter of seconds he would come to the same conclusion.

**Thank you for reading, please review :)**

**If you enjoyed this story and wish to read the other stories  
in this challenge you can find them on my profile and on Stutley Constable's** fanfiction(dot)net/u/1963348/Stutley_Constable **(replace the dot)**


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